


Destroyed

by caleprwrite



Category: Clintasha - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Assasin!Clint, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Healing, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleprwrite/pseuds/caleprwrite
Summary: She’s brave. She believes in herself. She’ll do what feels right, take the risks. She only has this one life and goddammit, she’ll make herself proud. She grips the rim of the porcelain sink and tries to steady her hands, looks into those tear-stained eyes and rinses the evidence of every emotion down the drain along with that fucking pill they've made her take every day for as long as she can remember.“One last time,” she whispers to herself. One. Last. Time.





	1. One. Last. Time.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning!!! Be advised the story includes potential difficulty for those sensitive to implied/reference non-consensual sex, forced prostitution, violence and forced drug use. This touches on the ugly, dark horror of human trafficking, forced prostitution and other HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATIONS.
> 
> Characters based on the Avengers and MCU. I do not own them.

She’s banged up, mentally and emotionally. Destroyed, literally and metaphorically. Even so, every day she walks outside with a smile on her face. Because that’s who she is. She has this one life and she has to decide how she wants to spend it.

Apologizing? 

Regretting? 

Questioning? 

Hating herself? 

Running?

She’s brave. She believes in herself. She’ll do what feels right, take the risks. She only has this one life and goddammit, she’ll make herself proud. She grips the rim of the porcelain sink and tries to steady her hands, looks into those tear-stained eyes and rinses the evidence of every emotion down the drain along with that fucking pill they've made her take every day for as long as she can remember.

“One last time,” she whispers to herself. One. Last. Time.

And just like that, she’s back at it. Moving her body through the crowd, swaying her curvy hips to the rhythm of the beat, but this time she chooses carefully. She searches for a certain quality in  _ this one’s _ eyes. 

She reads so many, and they're all familiar. She’s seen them all countless times. Lust. Greed and an over-inflated ego. Regulars. Anger, the violent ones with the need to control. Uncertainty. 

Wait- yes. Uncertainty, _ that’s the one.  _

Quickly, too fast for him to notice, she sizes him up. She sees the tailored shirt, the expensive watch, the well manicured hands, she knows he can afford to be here. That’s not what she’s really looking for, though. He’s got a medium build, she can hold her own with him. He looks about 30 years old, has kind blue eyes and a hint of unease in his expression. Perfect. This one’s perfect. 

She smiles, innocently at first, and he smiles back. She silently prays she’s not called it wrong. Again. Sometimes the ones who are there the first time have too much pent up… well, too much pent up everything. Sometimes they can be the most violent, but this one. He seems kind, unsure of himself, almost like he’s trying to convince himself not to feel bad just for being here.

“Buy you a drink?” he offers as she meets his eyes and sidles up next to him at the bar.

 

“I’d love one, thank you,” she says sweetly. She’s decided to go with the first-timer routine. It should put him more at ease and make it easier on both of them.

The bartender, also the keeper, meets them there and she orders a glass of Moscato. She tries to act like she doesn’t know the keeper. Knowing him would blow the whole new-girl act she’s got going.

“So, what’s your name?” he asks nervously. He’s trying to establish some kind of rapport between them. It’s cute, really. 

He’s already paid the fee. If he wanted, he could just drag her up to one of the rooms and have his way with her, but that’s apparently not how he wants to do this. She’s relieved, he actually  _ is _ a new guy and either doesn’t want it that way or hasn’t been read all the terms of his purchase just yet.

“I’m Mia,” she smiles and does her best to hide what’s left of her accent. She offers her hand softly, twirling a lock of cinnamon hair with the other. She wants to keep his interest, and acknowledging the fact it’s a business deal won’t work with him, so she lets her fingers drag lightly along his palm as their hands part. She’s read enough men that she knows better; he wants this to feel real. There’s a small heaviness in the pit of her stomach when she realizes that but she puts the sensation out of her mind nonetheless.

“Hi, I’m Michael. It’s nice to meet you, Mia.” He tips his glass of whiskey to her and she returns the gesture with her wine. “What should we drink to?”

She thinks on it for a moment. His name is definitely not Michael, but then again she’s not Mia, either. “New beginnings?” she asks hesitantly, holding his gaze. His blue eyes smile and he looks like he’s relaxing a little. He likes the sound of new beginnings. If he only knew. 

They each take a drink and there’s that horrible, uncomfortable, yet familiar tension in the air. He asks her to dance, and she’s relieved. Dancing is much easier foreplay than awkward conversation with a first-timer. On the dance floor, she can zone out and feel the rhythm, as long as she meets his eyes when she smiles, he’ll think he’s the reason behind it. 

She moves slowly against him, getting the feel for his own movement. He’s quite the dancer, surprisingly. This is going better than she thought. They’re about 4 inches apart in height, making her feel almost comfortable but definitely less intimidated, and he’s being polite with his hands so far. He’s fit, but not overly muscular. He feels lithe and agile.

It’s too bad she’s running tonight. She’s actually getting pretty good at making her marks, now that she's clean, but the keepers don't know she's not still taking the pills. If it weren’t for the crapshoot nature of the beast, and the all too regular occurrence of getting the shit beat out of her by the rough ones, she might even consider staying. If, that is, they'd let her have any kind of say in her work.

She turns her body and presses her ass into his pelvis, rolling her hips. She can feel his anticipation already, but he’s still behaving like a gentleman. Well, as much of a gentleman that would come to a place like this, at least.

She leans her head back and rests the back of her head against his shoulder. She can feel his breath on her neck but he’s not claiming her yet. His arms wrap around her waist and she covers his hands with hers, holding onto him as they move. 

She’s got to get him moving faster soon, before the keeper gets impatient. The party atmosphere at the club is just part of the sell. The girls are expected to produce quantity, not quality, and she knows what’s waiting for her if she doesn’t make her quota. Besides, she’ll never be able to run if they keep dancing like it’s an _ actual date _ all night. She rolls her hips again, pressing her ass into his groin and looks back at him like he’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen, but just for a moment before she averts her eyes bashfully and bites her lip with a smile. 

It works, because he goes from holding her lightly in his arms to gripping her waist with his strong hands and moving her against him more possessively. She turns and wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. At first it’s gentle and soft, but then he takes more. She lets him enter her mouth and moans as one of her hands fists up into his light brown hair. 

“Do you want to get out of here, Michael,” she begs into the shell of his ear as his hands start roaming lower down her back. He’s still using restraint, not outright groping her on the dancefloor like so many others do. 

“Yeah. My hotel isn’t far. Can, uh- can we do that?” he asks. They obviously didn’t tell him everything. It figures. Technically, clients can use one of the many rooms at the club _ or  _ they can take a girl with them, as long as they’re not going too far. It’s quicker to turn tricks if the girls stay put, and it’s also easier for the keepers to control them like that. 

“They told me we can go wherever you want, Michael,” she purrs and kisses him again like he’s the most important man in the world. Using their names lulls them into a false sense of security and they trust her faster. “Wherever you want, as long as I do this with you. I’ve never…  It’s my first night here,” she lies. The doe eyed, almost frightened look she gives him brings out his protective side. 

His blue eyes darken, and a mix of emotions flash across his face. His brows raise and he looks surprised, pleasantly so at her “first time” line. Then his brows lower almost instantly and he looks protective. His body language echoes that with the way he leads her off the dance floor, her hand in his, like he’s taking her to safety. Mostly though, his pupils are blown wide and he looks so fucking turned on that he’s the first one to be with her like this. 

The keeper watches their every move and she winks at him on her way out. It’s her way of telling him to kiss her ass, and it's satisfying. Michael turns back and she she shoots him a perfect little nervous smile which makes him squeeze her hand reassuringly. 

Outside, he leads her to his car and opens the door for her before going around to his side. 

Once they’re on their way, he reaches for her hand and kisses the back of her knuckles softly. He smiles at her, a small reassuring smile and that heaviness in the pit of her stomach is getting harder to ignore. 

She smiles through it anyway, trying to look grateful, nervous and relieved all that the same time. It’s not hard, because she is grateful, nervous and relieved. And that’s why she’s having to remind herself to push this sick feeling back down. She keeps her hand placed snugly in his own, and traces his forearm with the tips of her fingers while she tries to make small talk.

All the times she's been here, she's never felt bad about working a mark. Hell, she’d said and done just about anything to do her job successfully. Anything to avoid being punished. But this was different. This time it felt wrong. There was something about Michael, if that was even his name. Something about him that made her actually give a damn, and emotions in this particular line of work were a liability so she did her best to ignore the pull.

He tried to get to know her, and she did her best to be polite but shift the attention back to him. Usually the clients don't even bother asking about her. The married ones will drone on with the sob story of the wife who never understands their needs. The single guys are there for an ego stroking, to hear how  _ desirable _ they are, and how she  _ can’t believe _ they don’t have a good woman. The perverts either want to talk to her like she's a child or keep her completely silent. This was different.

Thankfully he was right, his hotel was very close and they arrived in no time. He led her up from the garage with his hand at the small of her back, polite and casual. They entered his suite and that’s where she expected it all to change; for him to drop the facade and take what he paid for. 

It always made her feel better when she initiated the sex because it gave her the illusion of control, of choice, of freedom. The door shut and she turned to him, kissed him, and he kissed her back. She tried to rush it. The sooner he comes, the sooner he'll doze off and she'll be gone into the night, never looking back. 

 

He broke the kiss with a small smile. “Can we just, I don't know. Talk or something? Get to know each other?” he asked, seeming unsure again. Fuck if this mark wasn't going to make her actually work. 

“Whatever you want, I'm all yours, Michael,” she said and kissed him lightly. 

“It's Clint, my name, it's not Michael,” he said and sat on the sofa. He drug his hands down his face and blew out a breath. “Sorry, I don't think this is for me. You're beautiful but, I don't feel right.” There it was. Not a big deal, hardly anyone used their given name, but she'd never had a John pay and then back out. “What’s yours? You don't look like a Mia, no offense.” He blushed and waited. He looked like he expected the ‘oh no, I've been totally honest’ line of bullshit and that's almost what she gave him. She had every intention of saying just that.

“Natasha. It's Natasha, actually,” she heard herself say against all better judgement, against every fiber of common sense left in her body. What the hell, technically she's already out, and she's clean now. Off the pills enough to have her wits about her. She could run now, but no. Somewhere in this sick twisted version of reality, she found herself being completely fucking honest, accent and all.

Clint smiled. It was a kind smile, and she detected a seriously attractive personality hiding behind the gesture. She sighed and sat next to him. “My name’s Natasha and I lied, this isn't my first night,” she explained. “I picked you because you looked like the one guy in there that was least likely to beat the shit out of me.” She waited, body tense and eyes almost shut, expecting a backhand across her cheek, or worse for lying and then for telling the truth. 

He looked stunned, but not necessarily angry, at least not at first, so she continued. “They drugged me, make me work every day, won't let me leave for more than two hours and even then only with a John. It’s been six years, but I'm finally clean. I haven't swallowed the pills in almost three months.”

His face darkened and his brow furrowed just as his hand raised and she flinched, but the blow never came. Instead what she thought was going to crack open her lip was him reaching to squeeze his temples in disbelief. When he saw her reaction, he instantly raised both hands palms out and moved back.

“Hey! Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise… Jesus, what have they done to you?” he breathed and stepped forward. She hesitated, not sure if she should bolt then or throw her arms around him for giving a shit. 

“I can't go back there, that's why I asked you to bring me here, “ she explained, meeting his concerned gaze. “But you paid, I'll do whatever you want, just give me a few minutes head start before you tell them you're done with me. Please. I just can't go back to that, I can't.” 

Again, the words flew out of her mouth against her better judgment and without her permission. Whatever it was about Clint that had her opening up to him was beyond her comprehension. She felt connected to him like she never felt with anyone. He moved closer and hugged her tightly. She buried her face into his chest and for the first time in over a year she hugged someone back, not because she had to but because she  _ wanted _ to. And oh, god, it felt so damn good to do something purely out of  _ want. _

“Clint, please. Don't make me go back,” she begged. Her voice shook, the sound nearly a sob. If she had any tears left to cry, they'd have been falling at that point. That sick feeling was back, it felt like her body was breaking in half.

“Ssh, it's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, it's going to be okay,” he soothed. His arms held her gently and he rubbed patterns up and down her spine. They separated and he met her eyes blue-green eyes. “Where are you going… do you have somewhere to go? You can't just wander, Natasha. It’s not safe.”

“I don't know,” she muttered. He smiled and ran his hands through her cinnamon hair. She felt ashamed for everything she’d admitted. That sour feeling in her stomach was back, stronger than ever. Her skin grew cold and clammy and her head spun. The pressure in the pit of her stomach began to rise and she pulled away, darting to the bathroom and closing the door just in time to retch the entire contents of her stomach. 

She rose from the bathroom floor and flushed the toilet. Looking into the mirror, she stared into her reflection while washing her hands and rinsing her mouth. She didn’t recognize the face staring back at her. How did she get herself into such a mess? She’d been so young and naive, honestly believed she’d be studying abroad, having a chance for the American Dream. Little did she know then, America’s dream had been dead for decades. She splashed cool water on her face and the back of her neck, breathing shallow and steady. 

“Hey Tasha?” she heard from behind the door. “There's mouthwash in my leather bag, and you can use my toothbrush if you want.” She dropped her eyes and smiled at the nickname he’d given her, and took him up on the offer before splashing her face again and coming back out.

Surprised to see him packing his things into his suitcase, she asked, “You're leaving?”

“ _ We're _ leaving,” he corrected. I gave them cash and a fake name but told them what hotel I'm at while I’m in town.” She nodded, understanding what he meant. He didn't want to get caught up in this, and she didn't blame him.

After he retrieved his leather bag from the bathroom she spoke. “I understand. Thanks for being- well for everything, Clint.” What she wanted to tell him, she couldn't bring herself to say aloud.  _ ‘Thanks for not fucking me and beating the shit out of me and sending me back for more.’  _  It doesn't exactly have a nice ring to it.

She turned to leave and felt him reach for her wrist. “Come with me,” he asked. “We'll drive across town and get another hotel. You can take a bath and order food, you know, get something in your stomach. Sleep and decide where you want to go in the morning, huh?” 

She narrowed her eyes, silently evaluating his motives. “What do I own you in return?” she asked suspiciously. “What's in it for you?” There was always a price. He smiled insincerely and looked down as he released her wrist and put his hands on his hips. 

“Let’s just say I get to do something good for a change. We all got our monsters, Tasha.” That got her attention. He continued, “No bullshit? I'm hoping that helping you will balance the red in my ledger, if only a tiny bit. At least it'll be a start.” Now that, that she could believe.

She looked at the clock. They’d been gone only a half hour. That gave them 90 minutes, tops, to get the hell out of the city before they came looking for her.

“Across town isn’t far enough. We have to get out of the city.” She eyed him again, “You sure about this? It’s not your problem. You don’t owe me anything.”

He smiled again, this time warm and welcoming. Moving closer, his voice dropped an octave and he asked, “What if I wanna make it my problem? You  _ can _ go back, but I know you don’t want that. You could take off, leave me here and I won’t stop you. You’d never have to see me again. If that’s what you want, say the words, I don’t want to do it but I will.” 

He stepped closer and reached for one of her hands. She let him hold it, and he pressed it up against his chest. She could feel the thrumming of his heart beneath his skin. His eyes searched hers and in that moment she saw that he was as broken as she was. 

“We could do this together. You trust me and I trust you. No bullshit. No lies, just brutal fuckin’ honesty from this moment on.” He brought his other hand up and touched he cheek softly. The unexpected movement made her flinch the tiniest bit, another lovely by-product of the life she’d lived for too long. 

She closed her eyes and willed her brain to believe him. Her heart wanted to, so fucking much it hurt. But her mind, that was another story. Every time she’d lead with that damned heart of hers it had been wrong. This time though. This time it was stronger, louder and more determined to get what it wanted. She opened her eyes and kissed him hard, passionately, desperately and he kissed her back the same. 

Their lips searched crashed together desperately. They were all lips and tongues and mouths and breathing the same air. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and she held onto him like her life depended on it. His arms wrapped securely around her waist and brought her closer to him so that their bodies occupied the same space. It was desperate and thrilling and determined and everything she’d ever wanted in that moment. Everything she thought she’d never find, and if she believed in soulmates, she’d know he was hers.

  
  
  



	2. Make It or Break It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha are both trying their best to come to terms with the decisions they've made that landed them together. 
> 
> Once in the garage, she stood and watched as he loaded his things into the car. When he noticed the look on her face he stopped. Their eyes met for a moment before she instinctively looked away, standing awkwardly near the car. He understood exactly what was going through her head. In all reality, this moment would define the rest of her life.
> 
> He approached her and she hesitated. “You can do this, okay?” He opened the door for her and waited. She looked between him and the car, and back to the elevator. “It’s your call, though. You have to make the decision. Nobody gets to have that power over you again unless you give it to them. Nobody.”
> 
> One more time she met his eyes. Those simple yet powerful words of encouragement were all she needed. She slid into the passenger seat and fastened her belt as he started the car and they drove away. Her eyes were glued to the mirror. She watched the hotel’s reflection grow smaller in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for the next installment! Comments, kudos and suggestions are all appreciated :)

Silently, Natasha watched as Clint finished gathering his things. He didn’t have much, one suitcase, a backpack and a metal case. He moved efficiently and calmly, almost like he’d had to clear out of places in haste before. She wondered what had brought him to Los Angeles to begin with.

“Can I help you with any of it?” she asked quietly.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. Ready?” He opened the door and held it with his foot, waiting for her to walk out into the hallway. She did as expected and numbly made her way to the elevator. She wondered what the hell had gotten into her. This wasn’t how she planned to run. For all she knew, Clint could turn on her in an instant, or worse, drag her into a hell much worse than where she was already. 

Once in the garage, she stood and watched as he loaded his things into the car. When he noticed the look on her face he stopped. Their eyes met for a moment before she instinctively looked away, standing awkwardly near the car. He understood exactly what was going through her head. In all reality, this moment would define the rest of her life. 

He approached her and she hesitated. “You can do this, okay?” He opened the door for her and waited. She looked between him and the car, and back to the elevator. “It’s your call, though. You have to make the decision. Nobody gets to have that power over you again unless you give it to them. Nobody.”

One more time she met his eyes. Those simple yet powerful words of encouragement were all she needed. She slid into the passenger seat and fastened her belt as he started the car and they drove away. Her eyes were glued to the mirror. She watched the hotel’s reflection grow smaller in the distance. 

“Do you have any ID Tasha?” Clint asked. He knew it was likely a rhetorical question, but it would determine where they went next. She looked at him like he was growing two heads.

“I have nothing,” she said flatly. “What you see on me is everything I have. Everything.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. It was the god’s honest truth. Everything she had was on her back.

“I’m just making sure. The ID you did have? You can never use that name again.” He reached to her hands that were in her lap and covered them with his own. It was warm and reassuring. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, changing the subject.

“San Diego. Someone there owes me a favor. First we’re going to get you papers. ID, passport, everything. Think about a name, okay? Make it a good one, because it’ll be yours for a while…” he smiled, trying to lighten the mood. They entered the freeway and he turned the music up, softly humming along to the melody. 

The quiet was nice. It gave her time to think. When she left Kiev 6 years ago, she was doe-eyed and full of hope. The prospect of a modeling job and schooling in America was more than she ever hoped for in the orphanage. She arrived in Los Angeles and was met by a handsome young man. He was in his mid-twenties and knew exactly what to say to get her to do what he wanted. It began innocently enough, introductions, casting, promises of fame and fortune. All the promises hinged on her being a “good girl”, going with the flow and being easy to work with. She was told nobody wanted to work with an uptight bitch, so the pills they slipped her were for her own good. It was okay, because they were looking out for her, or so they told her.

She thought long and hard about Clint and what he was offering. It sounded almost too good to be true, and that small part of her brain that would never trust anyone ever again was screaming as loud as possible. It warned her, ‘Don’t go, he’s no different! He’ll do the same thing to you- you can’t trust anyone!’ Her heart began pounding hard in her chest, and her breathing became shallow. She folded her hands tightly together to keep them from shaking. She chanced a look to her left at the man driving the car. She knew nothing about him and here she was putting her life in the hands of a complete stranger. There was no guarantee she wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch the moment they were outside the city.

“Ask me,” he said, breaking the silence between them.

“What do you? I- I don’t know what you mean,” she stuttered. 

He smiled and looked over to her and turned down the music. “Remember what I told you about trusting each other? No lies?” he asked.

“No bullshit. No lies, just brutal fuckin’ honesty…” she repeated his words back to him. He smiled and nodded, looked back to her silently repeating his request.  _ ‘Ask me’ _ his eyes said. 

“Who are you?” she began. “Why are you helping me and what even brought you to the club?” He smiled gently, happy to hear her take the initiative to question him. The tone of her voice was slowly, surely becoming more determined. 

“See?” he asked. “Told ya you could do this…”

“You didn’t answer me,” she replied flatly again. Her tone was accusatory.

He smiled again and began with the basics. It felt good to have the opportunity to tell someone  _ everything _ . He’d reached a point in his life that there was very little he feared anymore. Little he’d done and he was becoming numb to the world. Taking this risk actually got his blood pumping, and alerted his mind to the possibilities that maybe he wasn’t as invincible as his skills had rendered him for so long. 

“My name is Clinton Francis Barton. I’m Twenty-nine years old and if I had to pick one place I grew up, it would be Kenosha, Wisconsin.” He looked to his right to see her face. He had to see her reaction. She was listening intently, eyes narrowed, still not believing him completely but obviously waiting to see what more there was. He continued, “I’ve worked contracts for thirteen years. First time was just after I turned sixteen. I was out on my own and someone with a big mouth made an offer. When they saw I was serious, they coughed up the money and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. English may be her second language but she was damn good at it. Did this guy seriously just admit to being a hitman? It couldn’t be… that kind of thing didn’t just happen to people like Clint. He looked unassuming, almost charming but in a small-town kind of way. No, people like that didn’t just have it in their hearts to help others. They didn’t have hearts at all.

“How many girls actually believe that?” she asked sarcastically. She smirked and shook her head. Leave it to her to find a yahoo who had no grip on reality whatsoever.

“I told you I wanted to help you to try and balance the red in my ledger. You know, in the past, I could do my job, even two or three times a night and sleep like a baby. Never even had a conscience to fight with.” He looked forward and his hands gripped the wheel tighter. “One night it all changed,” he said, voice drifting off. 

Holy. Shit. He really believed this, and Natasha was stuck in a car with him somewhere in the dark California night halfway to the border. Her instinct told her to play along, go with whatever he wanted to talk about, anything to keep those eyes from darkening more.

“What happened? To make it change, I mean,” she asked tentatively.

He looked back to her and their eyes met. She saw the regret there. He looked broken. 

“The target… He was supposed to be in a secure location. Quick in, quick out. I didn’t ask questions, I knew most of my hits were bad people but I’m also not stupid. Some were innocent, but the money all spent the same. Anyway, as usual it was one shot, one hit.” Natasha watched him, breath held and waiting for the worst. “A bus ran the stop and he hit it. Pushed it right over the guardrail into the river below. Not just a bus, Tasha. It was a special needs school bus. Turns out the driver was drunk from the night before and didn’t even…” his voice cracked and the pain was unmistakable. He breathed in deeply and rushed the rest of the sentence out. “He didn’t even stop. The driver made it out alive, but every single one of those kids… died.” A lone tear escaped down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away and took a loud breath.

She silently observed him, the pain in his voice, the wetness shining in his eyes he so desperately tried to conceal. The absolute horror he must have felt when it happened. “That’s why you’re helping me?” she asked.

He shrugged, a small gesture that would be easily missed had she not had her eyes glued to him at the moment. He rested his left arm on the doorframe and rubbed his temples with his fingers before carding his hand through his hair. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you were at the club and why you hesitated so much. You knew what you were buying when you walked in. Why not go through with it?” she demanded. 

“Since that day, I’d been different,” he began. “Don’t get me wrong, I can still do my job. Still have the best accuracy of anyone I’ve met,” he continued. “My handler, noticed something was off. Said I should go to this club, that I could take my mind off everything for a bit, be right as rain.” He looked back to Natasha. “That’s when I met you,” he finished, as if that in itself was an explanation.

They sat in silence the rest of the way to San Diego. Natasha mulled over the information he’d shared, trying to make sense of it all. She knew this darker side of society existed, that it was churning, a constant force just under the shiny southern California image, licking at the facade just waiting for darkness to rear it’s ugly face. She knew, alright. She was no angel and she came from her own form of that same hell. Still, to find another person who dwelled in the same darkness she did. Well, it was unexpected to say the least. What did that make the two of them together? How much more evil could possibly be in one space at a time? Or, would the combination do the unthinkable and somehow they’d be able to set each other free? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain. Stay or go, believe him or not. If he was offering her a new start, a new name… she’d be a fool to pass it up. So she’d smile and nod, reassure and recite the lines of hope and forgiveness. She’d do whatever it took to get what she so desperately needed right now.

  
  



	3. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia is dead and it's time for Natasha to begin living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at the end of the chapter for translation. Comments and kudos are appreciated, thanks for reading!

Natasha realized she dozed off once the lights of urban San Diego woke her up. She slowly, heavily came to the realization she was in the car with Clint. Once everything clicked, she sat with a start and searched for some kind of signage to figure out her location.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” he said softly and squeezed her shoulder. Natasha jumped at the contact, looked over to him and smiled uneasily. She never woke up relaxed anymore, at least not for years. 

“Where are we?” she asked when she didn’t recognize the names of the freeway exits. 

“Comin’ up on Chula Vista. Seedy little town just before the border. Good people and great Mexican food, though,” he added, as if that made sense of it all. They exited and drove into a run down neighborhood. 

“Wow, Barton. You really know how to show a lady a good time,” she quipped as she peered out at the graffiti laden plaster walls and barred-in windows. Their eyes met and they each wore a similar smirk.

“Just the best for you, hot stuff.”

He pulled up to a wrought iron gate and pressed the buzzer, waving at the camera before it swung open. They carefully entered the gravel asphalt driveway and rounded the house to a larger, much nicer property in the rear.

A serious looking man came out to meet them. He was tall, muscular, exceptionally dressed and had a very intimidating air about him. As soon as Clint exited the car the man broke into a smile and hugged him tight. 

_ “Hermano!” _ the man said as the two grabbed each other by the shoulders and roughly hugged again.  _ “Que paso, pendejo! No te he visto en mucho tiempo!” _

Clint laughed lightly and replied, “I have someone I want you to meet, she’s a friend.” He opened the door and Natasha joined them. “This is Tasha, we need to get her set up with some clean docs. Tasha, this is Daniel, my brother.”

The man- Daniel- approached Natasha extended his hand. She shook it politely and he pulled her into a hug, which made her freeze on the spot. 

Natasha backed away stiffly and replied, “Nope, not a hugger…” as politely as possible and Daniel eyed her carefully. 

_ “Con cuidado con esta, Hermano,” _ Clint said before flashing a charming smile to Natasha. 

Daniel asked, “You speak Spanish?” Natasha and she shook her head no. 

“Russian, a little Romanian” was her simple reply. 

“Please,” Daniel invited, gesturing toward the house. “Please come in.” He wrapped his thick arm around Clint’s shoulders and squeezed his neck as they walked together to the house and she followed, silently taking in her surroundings. 

_ “Tio Halconcito!” _ a little girl exclaimed and crashed into him. She greeted Clint with a kiss on the cheek and a squeezing hug around his neck, never dropping the soft pink blanket she held tightly in her left hand.   

“Hey Mama! What are you doing awake?” he asked gently, tickling her belly.

“Papi let me watch TV,” she whispered and giggled loudly, in an ‘I’m five and everyone needs to hear’ me voice. She looked to Natasha and smiled a big toothless grin. “Hi,” she said simply before wiggling down to return to the TV and watch her video.

Natasha found herself smiling at the exchange. Both men, previously teasing each other brutally turned into mush the moment the little girl was in the room. It was strangely comforting and she relaxed just enough for a pleasant expression to make it’s way onto her face.

Daniel turned back to Natasha and smiled warmly. “So, how’d you get yourself mixed up with this  _ pendejo _ ?” he teased and Clint rolled his eyes. 

She thought about a response. “Oh, this guy? He’s my knight in shining armor,” she shot back and flashed a quick smile in Clint’s direction. Daniel watched the exchange, silently reading their body language and settled on the knowledge that she wouldn’t open up to him any time soon.

He stared for a moment before saying, “Let’s see, you look like an Oksana? Maybe Irina? No?” He waited as she scoffed at the obvious choices. 

“You’re not very original, are you. How about Natasha? Will that work?” she asked. Clint looked at her carefully. 

“You sure Tasha? Shouldn’t we go with something different?” he suggested. 

“It’s been Mia since I’ve been in the states, but my given name is Natalia Alianova Romanova. My grandmother always called me Natashenka, after herself. I don’t want any other name. Feel free to pick a middle and last name for me- whatever you want- but Natasha stays.” It was the most either men had ever heard her say, and given the tone she used, neither wanted to argue. 

“Natasha it is,” Daniel agreed. “Since you don’t give a shit about a middle name, we’re going to go Mexican on you and skip that.”

“Romanoff,” Clint said. “Natasha Romanoff?” She smiled, she liked the way it sounded. Simple, to the point, and very… her.

“Do it,” she agreed. 

After photos, fingerprints, and a couple of encrypted websites, both ‘Mia’ and ‘Natalia Alianova Romanova’ were dead. From that day forward, only Natasha Romanoff existed and it was liberating, to say the least. She even began to warm up to Daniel. It was hard not to with the way they both turned into doting dorks whenever Lupita was in the room. The little girl even had Natasha cracking a smile when she wasn’t paying attention. She was a spitfire.

When they prepared to leave, Daniel asked, “How long you guys in town,  _ Hermano _ ?” and Clint shrugged. He looked at Natasha and they exchanged an awkward glance. Neither of them had thought that far in advance. She suspected he’d be rid of her soon, serving his penance and helping her with the new ID and all.

“At least till tomorrow, I guess. He looked into the other room and saw Lupita passed out on the sofa.  _ “Hey, besitos a mi Lupita when she wakes up, eh?” _ Clint instructed in the most broken spanish Natasha had ever heard. 

Daniel held his hand out for Natasha and kept his distance this time. “Natasha, it was a pleasure. Any friend of my brother’s is always welcome here.” 

She shook his hand and thanked him sincerely, staring down at the new documents in her hand. Her new life, her future. 

Clint and Daniel exchanged their goodbyes, laced with good natured shit talking and a hug before he also climbed into the car. He looked to her and smiled as the car roared to life and they exited the compound back into the barrio of Chula Vista. Natasha looked down at the documents in her lap again, still in mild disbelief. 

She was free.

She looked at the man next to her and the strongest, most powerful sense of gratitude washed over her like a tidal wave. He had done this for her freely, with no strings attached, he hadn’t even been asked to do it. She didn’t know people like him even existed. And so what if he killed people for a living? Nobody was perfect.

He met her gaze and smiled back. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring at him, much less smiling. “I have an idea…” he said and entered the freeway heading north. 

“Uh-oh, another idea?” she asked playfully. “Better than this?”

“You’ll see,” he said and turned up the radio. Within minutes he was tapping against the steering wheel like it was a drumset and singing along in the deliberately worst singing voice ever, with nothing but a smile on his lips and in his eyes. It looked good on him. It was contagious and she also sang along, purposely off key. They laughed and sang the entire 20 minutes to Coronado. 

They pulled into the hotel and the valet met them at the curb. Natasha shot a look at Clint, surprised at the elegant resort they’d arrived at. He smiled bashfully and winked. 

“Come on Tasha, you’ll love this place,” he promised and she followed him out of the car. She self-consciously crossed her arms around her waist and she silently followed Clint to the lobby. She took in the grand decor of the resort, the rich mahogany wood carved ornately and the marble registration counter resting regally above it. 

They were greeted by a young blonde who was more than happy to help with whatever Clint asked for. Natasha stood off to the side nervously and the blonde met her eyes. She smiled curiously and Natasha looked back to Clint. He handed her a key which she slid into her passport book and repeated what the blonde said. 

“Two bedroom cottage, right on the beach,” he smiled. They were taken immediately by a bell hop to a golf cart just outside the front doors and driven to their cottage. Clint motioned for Natasha to sit in the back seat with him. He and the driver made small talk about what brought them to Coronado. Clint lazily draped his arm around Natasha's shoulders and replied, “Special occasion, short notice kinda thing, but a celebration.” He winked again in Natasha’s direction and gave her a soft squeeze around her shoulders and she felt herself relax.

Clint was right, she should be celebrating. It was difficult for her to down-shift so quickly though. Natasha had lived all of her adult life in fear, under control and waiting for the next proverbial bomb to drop on her. 

She forced herself to relax further, to chance a smile. She breathed in the ocean air and heard the waves pounding against the shore in the night air. She allowed her mind to wander during the short ride to the cottages at the end of the resort, while Clint spoke politely with the older man driving. She wondered what the resort looked like in the daytime, she was excited to see the beach, to watch the ocean waves wash over the soft sand and she longed to dip her toes in the surf. 

No sooner did her shoulders drop a touch from relaxation than they arrived at their cottage. It was lit nicely, the tropical vegetation and mood lighting mixed with the soft sounds of instrumental music cast a surreal glow over the white building. Clint thanked the man and grabbed the luggage himself after handing over a generous tip.

The two walked up the steps to their floor of the cottage and entered the living area. It smelled fresh, the plush carpet was soft under the heels on her feel and she instantly slipped them off to feel it with her toes. Clint quietly watched her every move as she explored each room. The kitchenette, the first room just off the living space with a queen sized bed, a moderate sized full bath next to that, and another room at the end of the hall.

She entered the master bedroom and fell into the middle of the giant king sized bed, complete with a fluffy down blanket, a crisp white duvet and more pillows than any one person could ever need. She sank deeper into the bedding and a small smile formed on her lips. She sat up and peered into the ensuite bathroom with it’s claw-foot tub, floor to ceiling glass walled shower, and double marble vanity. To the other side was an open door leading to a walk-in closet larger than the small room she’d been living in for years. 

She looked to the doorway and saw Clint standing with his arms loosely folded across his chest and his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. He watched her with a longing in his eyes. The expression he wore, it wasn’t sexual at all. It was more wistful, like an old memory. 

She dropped her gaze and heat prickled up her neck and into her cheeks. Her heart thudded against her chest in a nervous rhythm and she tried to identify the feeling pulsing through her veins. Was she- actually excited? Happy? Relaxed? Wow. Their eyes met again and he smiled broader. “It looks good on you, Tasha,” he casually observed. 

Her brow furrowed, not sure what he meant. “The bed?” she asked.

He laughed lightly, and looked down, squirming a bit at how she took his comment. “No, I meant the smile.” His blue eyes met hers and he asked, “You hungry?”

No sooner did he ask than her stomach decided to make itself known with an embarrassing growl. They both laughed at the same time and her cheeks burned. “Why don’t you relax, I’ll order us some room service. I’m starving. Want anything in particular?” he asked as he straightened to walk back to the living room. 

How would she even begin to know what this place had? “Whatever you order sounds good to me, I’m too hungry to be picky,” she replied. She kept her eyes trained on him and tentatively rose from the bed to approach him. She padded across the room and stood in front of him. His expression became uncertain. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. He returned the embrace easily, wrapping one arm around her back and rested the other hand softly against her hair. She squeezed him and breathed in his scent, grateful to have met him. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible and he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. She was indebted, thankful and something else she couldn’t even put into words. He was the first to break their awkwardly perfect embrace. She looked up into his blue eyes and smiled, actually smiled. It was a real, genuine smile of comfort and relief, and it felt good.

Slowly she sank into the deep bathtub and let the lavender aromatherapy do its work. The humidity filling the room caused a slight sheen on her forehead and the small hairs at the bottom of her bun to curl into cinnamon colored ringlets. She rubbed the sore muscles of her neck and shoulders with her warm wet hands and tried to release the tension she’d kept in them all evening. Reflexively, she jumped when she heard the door, and remembered Clint had ordered food. She suspected it would take quite some time before she broke the habit of jumping every time she heard an unexpected sound, and just hoped one day it would end.

Her mind wandered and she pictured the look the keeper had given her when she sarcastically shot him a wink as she left that night. It was a silent promise that she’d pay for it later. She supposed the joke was on him now, and couldn’t help but smile to herself as she rose from the tub and toweled off.

Natasha wrapped herself in the hotel robe and followed the delicious smell of freshly toasted bread. She joined Clint at the table and her eyes roamed over the spread of traditional breakfast foods. He smiled up at her, “It’s four in the morning, so they’ve got the breakfast menu. Hope that’s okay.”

“It smells delicious,” she breathed as she dug in. She served herself some toast, fresh fruit, bacon, eggs and poured a glass of orange juice. He did the same, and they ate in comfortable silence. Her eyelids became heavier as the hole in her stomach filled and soon she stared at the remainder of her food blankly. It had been delicious but the thing she needed most now was sleep. 

As if reading her mind, he offered to clear everything up and rose. He held out his hand for her to do the same and he gave her a small side hug and bid her goodnight. She turned to thank him and watched as he plopped down on the sofa, put his feet on the coffee table and flipped the TV on low. She couldn’t hide the smile in her voice as she called out, “G’night Clint” over her shoulder as she closed the bedroom door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermano!= Brother!  
> Que paso, pendejo! No te he visto en mucho tiempo!= What's up asshole? Haven't seen you in a long time!  
> Con cuidado con esta, Hermano.= Be careful with this one, brother.  
> Tio Halconcito!= Uncle Hawkeye!  
> Hey, besitos a mi Lupita when she wakes up, eh= Hey, give my Lupita kisses for me when she wakes up, okay?


	4. Red in the Ledger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's POV on how he found his way to the club and meeting Natasha

**POV- Clint**

 

Clint watched as Natasha closed the door. Once the click of the lock sounded, he smiled to himself. Such a strange turn of events the last day had taken... He’d been struggling over the past few weeks after his last assignment had gone south. Up to that point he’d been 0 for 28 as far as fuck-ups went. Clint prided himself on his 100% accuracy, 100% completion rate. Tony, his handler, had warned him that kind of success rate was just begging for a bad day, but of course Clint wouldn’t listen.

He’d started on his own, been self taught- and that was the best way in his book. He’d learned how to be invisible, how to disappear, how to be a ghost both literally and figuratively. Everything was perfect until that day. He knew in his gut it wasn’t right. The assignment was short notice, the target was leaving town and time was running low. When the target finally came out of the club, morning had broken and the streets were waking up. Clint reasoned against his better judgement and let arrogance in his extensive experience take over.

The shot was clean, there were no witnesses, the car should have run off the road directly into the river if only that damned bus driver hadn’t blown the stop. Seven innocent children went into the water. Seven souls never came out. The scene still haunts his dreams. It became difficult to sleep normally, without some kind of distraction. Tony was the first to notice the bags under his eyes and the edge around his normally easy going personality.

“Jesus, Barton. Maybe you need to get laid! Get it out of your system already. You weren’t the one driving, okay? It’s not on you,” Tony had told him.

Clint had replied with an eloquent “Fuck off!” and that had been the end of the discussion, at least for a few weeks.

Clint had become withdrawn from his friends and associates. He reasoned he should go dark until he got his head right. It was safer than risking another error, and he thought he was doing better. Until, that is, Tony found him in LA. They met for drinks, and over the course of the evening the subject of no strings attached enjoyment came up.

“I don’t need your help man, thanks anyway,” Clint had told him. “Besides- and no offense- but you’re the last person I’m taking advice from. Hey, Pepper know you have connections at a place like that?”

Tony faltered in his answer for a moment and then gave his trademark smirk. “I go to conventions. It’s not _all_ firsthand knowledge, Barton. People talk, and this place comes very highly recommended.” He smiled and continued, “First round’s on me, think of it as a welcome back gift.”

Clint took the card and eyed it closely. It looked like a classy joint, and Tony traveled in much higher circles than one would find your run of the mill rub-and-tug. Still, something about it didn’t feel quite right.

“Look, go have a drink, check it out. See if you like it, okay? No harm in that, right?” Tony encouraged. “If nothing else, get some for me,” he finished with a wink before clapping him on the shoulder as the two men parted.

Two hours later his eye caught that beautiful red-head with the doe-eyes making her way across the dancefloor. She was beautiful, breathtaking, but something silent and unspoken cried out for someone to get her out of there. Before he knew it, his hands were around her waist and they were dancing. Their bodies fit perfectly together and it was hard (no pun intended) not to be turned on by her curvy body.

Clint couldn’t help but notice how every few minutes “Mia” glanced nervously at the bartender. The way he eyed her back was all control and intimidation. Clint had seen it before, a high profile client had a daughter get mixed up with the wrong people. They’d gotten her strung out on drugs and pimped her out at a high profile place much like that one. He’d been hired to make it look like a rival gang hit, and last he heard the girl was using again and back on the streets.

When the beautiful redhead approached him, her eyes were clear as day. She was completely sober and knew exactly what she was doing. The only desperation he saw in them was to get out the door, and make it look like it was all business, so he played along.

Would he have fucked her? Probably, if it weren’t for the lines he read through so easily. Would it have cleared his head, like Tony said? Who the hell knows. Did he still want her? Even more so, but in a much more complicated way. Clint wants Natasha the same way the tide wants the moon. He feels an innate pull to her strong enough to charge into anything that would possibly keep them apart. That’s why he brought her with him. Took her where he did, and gave her what he gave. The best thing, the only thing he wants for her is to have a life. And if there’s a place for him in it, then that’s all he could possibly hope for.

He flipped through the channels and saw nothing that interested him. Once he unpacked, he realized Natasha had nothing other than the flimsy dress she had on when they first met. He took out a t-shirt and boxers for her and laid them on the hall table just outside the doorway to her room.

In the morning, he’d go the shops inside the hotel to get her some actual clothes. He guessed she was about a size medium? She was petite, smaller than him by a good 4-5 inches but curvy and strong, so a small probably wouldn’t be comfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed as he continued to plan out the next day. Maybe he’d pick up a bikini for her also and they could catch some rays.

He stopped midway through putting on a t-shirt and realized the way planning a day with Natasha felt natural, like she’d always been in his life, but at the same time he was nervous. What if she didn’t want to stay? Where would she go and how could he know she was safe? If leaving’s what she wanted, he’d at least convince her to take some money, maybe keep the villa for a few more days while she figured out where she’d go next.

Clint’s mind was spinning and his thoughts were running away with him. He lowered the volume on the TV and stared at the screen off and on while checking in for more work. He saw the message from Tony on his phone.

Tony: So... What did I tell u

Tony: U can thank me later... Text me when ur awake- got a job 4 u

Clint: U up?

Tony: Cobwebs gone?

Clint: haha ASSHOLE

Tony: Sent u the specs- in 2 days I need u in Romania

Tony: Let me know u accept

Clint: …

Clint: Accept

Tony: Cobwebs R gone tho?

Clint: FUCK OFF TONY

  



	5. Stay with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After accepting the job and giving Tony just enough shit to make him smile, Clint settled back into the sofa. He continued flipping through the channels aimlessly until he heard muffled crying coming from Natasha’s room. He stilled and listen carefully, thinking at first he was hearing things, but then recognized a few of the words being mumbled in Russian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy a little more of Clint's perspective. Next chapter will flip back to Natasha's POV. Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks! Please comment if you want me to add in any elements to their developing friendship. You guys are awesome!

After accepting the job and giving Tony just enough shit to make him smile, Clint settled back into the sofa. He continued flipping through the channels aimlessly until he heard muffled crying coming from Natasha’s room. He stilled and listen carefully, thinking at first he was hearing things, but then recognized a few of the words being mumbled in Russian.

_“Остановить! Пожалуйста!  Пожалуйста не заставляй меня… ”_

_“Stop! Please! Please don’t make me…”_

Clint rose from the sofa and knocked softly on the door. “Tasha?” he called. “Tasha, it’s me, open up. It’s Clint,” he repeated, with no response. He listened again and heard nothing, hoping that at least knocking had pulled Tasha out of whatever dream she was having.

Clint spent the next hour pacing the floor, sitting on the sofa, laying back trying to rest and finally crawled into his own bed. He laid back, staring at the ceiling through the violet-hued early morning light and replaying the past day’s events in his mind. He remembered Tasha saying she spoke a little Romanian and thought perhaps he could convince her to come with him in 2 days for his next job.

 

A few hours later, Clint awoke to the sweet sounds and aroma of coffee brewing. He smiled and turned over, stretching and inhaling the scent in the air. He felt the bed dip and turned over to be greeted by Natasha’s smile.

“Thank you Clint,” she said simply. She was perched on the edge of the bed and wore the boxers and shirt he’d left out for her when he unpacked.

He smiled back. “Comfy?” he asked and she shook her head. He breathed in and smiled, “Coffee smells so good.” He groaned out another stretch and rose from the bed, following Natasha into the kitchenette.

She poured him a cup of coffee and added two sugars and a small splash of milk, just the way he’d always liked it. She watched as he took the cup and his eyes rolled back in his head as he took the first drink. She snorted out a laugh at the obscene sound he made when the warm liquid filled his stomach and the caffeine shot through his veins.

“Would the two of you like some privacy?” she smirked, nodding to his cup and he uncharacteristically blushed and chuckled while absently scratching at the back of his head.

“Got any plans for today?” he asked, changing the subject. She gazed at him thoughtfully, “Maybe catch some sun, if you don’t mind me borrowing your clothes a bit longer. How long are we here for?” She hesitated when she saw his face fall a bit.

He worried that when he went back to work she’d be gone into the wind. He reasoned that was a chance he had to take, after all he made it clear she didn’t owe him a thing. Still, part of him hoped she might like to stick around. “Gotta head out in two days,” he said tentatively. “You said you know a bit of Romanian, right?” She tilted her head and looked at him like he was about to sprout wings and fly around the room. “I gotta go to Romania, was hoping you’d like to come with. Maybe help me with the local language? If you’re not busy… you know.”

A bright smile spread across her beautiful face, brightening her blue-green eyes and making his heart skip. “You asking me on a date, Barton?”

He smiled and feigned innocence. “Well I’m _really not that kind of girl_ , but for you I’d make an exception,” he said, batting his eyelashes at her. That had her laughing, a loud, natural laugh that he wanted to hear over and over again. He pounded the rest of his coffee and went to brush his teeth and dress while Natasha opened up the french doors to the balcony overlooking the Pacific. The salty air filtered in through the cottage and danced with the warm aroma of coffee.

She looked back when he emerged from his bathroom and saw him ready to go.

“I’m just going to step out for a minute and pick up a few things. Want anything?” he asked. She smiled and shook her head no, and stuck her nose back into the magazine she’d picked up off the coffee table.

 

Once in the main building of the hotel, Clint perused the shops. There were quite a few to choose from. Jewelry, souvenirs, beach apparel, a higher end clothing boutique and an upscale convenience store. He began at the convenience store and picked up a ladies toiletry bag complete with everything someone would need for travel. Next, he headed into the beach apparel store, since he really wanted to spend some time relaxing in the sand and getting to know her better. Every time he saw something he thought would look good on her, something else came into view that he thought she might like. Overwhelmed by the multitude of options, he settled on a simple black bikini, thong sandals, a convertible sheer sarong (the sales clerk said that’s what it was called) and some dark cat-eye sunglasses. Thankfully, the clerk was about the same height and build as Natasha. She proved he was, in fact, correct about her being a medium. She asked if he wanted to take anything else, but he figured he’d just bring her back a bit later so she could pick out what she liked.

After paying for everything and jogging back through the resort to the end where their villa was located, Clint stopped short beside a tree. In the not so far distance, he saw Natasha on the deck of their cottage. She stood leaning against the railing in his t-shirt and boxers, with her long cinnamon hair blowing in the breeze behind her. The sight of her took Clint’s breath away. He wondered how it was possible to feel so strongly about someone he’d just met. He’d never been drawn to anyone like he was drawn to her. It was intense, immediate and completely unexplainable.

If Clint Barton believed at all in soulmates, he’d know that Natasha was his.


	6. A Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The salty air blew through Natasha’s wavy red hair as she leaned on the wooden railing of the second floor balcony. She allowed herself to smile as she inhaled deeply and the sea breeze caressed her face.   
> Staring out at the ocean in the distance, Natasha felt so small and insignificant. Most of all, she felt invisible.   
> Until she didn’t.  
> Down and to the left, she felt eyes on her and her blood ran cold. She chanced a cautious glance to evaluate the threat and saw Clint leaning against a tree watching her quietly with a small smile on his lips. She immediately released the tension in her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to post, work has been crazy!
> 
> I hope y'all are enjoying the story...

The salty air blew through Natasha’s wavy red hair as she leaned on the wooden railing of the second floor balcony. She allowed herself to smile as she inhaled deeply and the sea breeze caressed her face. 

It was early in the morning and the low tide created tide pools filled with all sorts of interesting ocean life. Small families dotted the shoreline in the distance. She watched small children in sunhats with plastic buckets dancing in and out of the water excitedly. Two people jogged past the cottage in opposite directions with their headphones in, barely noticing each other. A flock of seagulls called to each other in the distance. Staring out at the ocean in the distance, Natasha felt so small and insignificant. Most of all, she felt invisible. 

Until she didn’t.

Down and to the left, she felt eyes on her and her blood ran cold. She chanced a cautious glance to evaluate the threat and saw Clint leaning against a tree watching her quietly with a small smile on his lips. She immediately released the tension in her shoulders. When their eyes met he smiled wide and waved up to her before jogging up the steps to the door. 

“Look what I found at the shops,” he smiled and handed her two plastic bags. 

Natasha peered inside the first and saw a toiletry kit and thanked Clint gratefully. It would be nice to have her own things again, even though the lotions the cottage was stocked with did smell nice. She opened the next bag and pulled out the beachwear. Natasha looked up to the excited expression on Clint’s face. 

“So? How’d I do? The girl there was about your size, so she told he what to get. Said that scarf thing is for over the suit. I thought maybe we could get some sun later... whad’ya think?” 

The smile and excitement in his voice was contagious. Natasha couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since Clint had someone to hang around with and just relax. He seemed almost starved for some fun. Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks Clint, you did great,” she smiled hesitantly.

His face fell. “But?” 

“I can’t pay you for all this.” Natasha felt overwhelmed at Clint’s generosity. She didn’t do anything to deserve any of it and she really didn’t know why he was being so kind, or how she’d been lucky enough to find someone like him. Those dark shadows of self doubt kept crawling back up her spine and ruining every one of her attempts at peace. 

She hated herself for being naive enough to get trapped into prostitution all those years ago. She hated how her inability to enjoy life seemed to be ruining Clint’s happiness. She hated the fact that she couldn’t convince herself she was worth any of this kindness. 

“Hey, Tasha…  **_hey_ ** . Come on sweetheart, don’t do that to yourself, ” Clint urged gently and lifted her chin with a crooked finger. Their eyes met and he smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t go to whatever dark place that was. Stay right here with me, huh? You don’t have to be that girl anymore. This is your chance to make your life the way  **_you_ ** want it.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a soft kiss into her hair. “No bullshit, remember?” he smiled and squeezed her again.

She looked up and saw the sincerity in his eyes and the hopeful smile on his lips. It really was a contagious smile, and she returned it genuinely. He bent and softly kissed her cheek before handing her back the beach clothes. 

“I saw some people down by the tidepools. I’ve never actually put my feet in the ocean. Can we go to the water?” she asked. 

He backed away a step and looked at her thoughtfully, his finger and thumb cradling his chin dramatically. “As much as I like the way you look in my shirt and boxers, you might want to change first.” He broke the mock-serious look on his face and chuckled. “Go on!” The impatient excitement was back in his voice and he playfully pushed her toward the bedroom. “Last one dressed loses!”

They each took off to their respective rooms and changed quickly. The smile in Natasha’s heart was back. No way was she going to lose their little race, she just wouldn’t have it. Lucky for her she didn’t have to peel herself out of shoes and socks. She stripped in record time and ran back to the living room, still tying the sarong around her hips. 

She put the glasses on top of her head just as he stumbled out of his room, still tying the drawstring of his swimsuit around his waist. Natasha silently admired Clint’s physique. She was right the other night. His upper body wasn’t huge but he was well muscled, lithe and defined, with a great tan. He must really enjoy the sun, because she did see a tiny flash of lighter skin at his waist when he bent and dropped his sandals to the floor. Natasha smiled to herself as she chanced a look in the direction of his taut rear. She raised an eyebrow and thought to herself, ‘not bad, Barton, not bad at all’.

He straightened up and looked back just as she finished ogling him. “Ready?” he asked, throwing two beach towels from the cupboard over his shoulder. He held out his arm and she threaded her own through it.

 

The sand was surprisingly warm in the morning sun. Clint placed their towels back in the dryer sand and lead Natasha down to the water’s edge. He motioned back to the towels over his shoulder and explained, “Tide’s gonna be coming in soon, so if go too close, everything’ll get wet.” 

Natasha looked to the sea and back at Clint. “This is amazing, Clint. Is the water cold?”

He looked at her mischievously and fought the urge to pick her up and throw her into the waves. It would be a real dick move if she didn’t know how to swim. “Not really, we’re so close to Mexico. The farther south you go the warmer the water is… big difference between here and say LA or Santa Barbara.” He held out his hand and she grabbed it. “You know how to swim?”

“Of course, I didn’t just crawl out from under a rock, silly. I used to be on my high school’s dive team before I came to the heeeeere!!” She yelped excitedly as the waves ran up and over her ankles and up past her knees. 

Clint laughed heartily. “There’s the tide! Good thing we put our stuff back a bit, huh?”

Natasha held tightly onto Clint’s hand and stood, letting the tide push inland and force the water over her legs higher and higher each time. “My feet!” she laughed as the movement of the water and sand began to bury them in the surf. 

“Hey!” Clint laughed as she pulled her feet loose and splashed water at him. “Great water, huh? This is my favorite beach in California.” 

They walked side by side and Clint rambled on about the sandcrabs that could be seen bubbling in the sand each time the water was pulled back out to sea. He bent and dug his finger around a half-moon shaped water pattern running over the sand as the wave pulled back to the sea. He picked up the thing and held in his palm a sand dollar. 

“It’s alive?” Natasha exclaimed as he put the urchin in her palm. “I thought they were shells or something.” She squirmed when she felt the hairy spines on the bottom of the animal tickle her hands. 

“The dead ones are lighter colored. You know it’s still alive if you feel it move or it leaves a yellowy-orange color on your hand when you hold it for a while,” he explained after putting it gently back in the sand near the water’s edge. They stood quietly as the sand dollar buried itself back under the surface. 

Natasha turned her palm to look for the discoloration he mentioned, but didn’t see any. “How long do you have to hold it for your hand to turn colors?”

“I dunno, probably a minute at least.” They held hands and continued to walk, stopping every few minutes when a particularly pretty shell caught one of their eyes. Clint found a piece of jade-colored sea glass. He handed it to Natasha. “You should keep it, it matches your eyes.”

She smiled and blushed before looking back at the row of cottages. They’d come so far down the shore and she didn’t even realize it. Time passed so quickly when she was with Clint.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” he asked out of nowhere.

“Um, no. I didn’t think about it, why?”

“Shit! You’re gonna burn... Come one, let’s go grab some.” He lead her back to the main hotel building and they walked a little quicker than their previous leisurely pace. 

 

They entered the market where Clint had picked up the toiletry bag for Natasha and the man behind the counter recognized him. “Hello my friend,” the man said as they approached the counter. Clint exchanged pleasantries and paid for the aerosol sunscreen. Natasha wandered throughout the store looking at the different magazines in the rack. She jumped out of habit when Clint walked up behind her and slung his arm around her shoulders. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you jump,” he said quietly and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

She smiled and wrapped her own arm around his waist. They stopped at the beachside cafe for brunch on their way back out to the water. There was a comfortable silence that fell over the two of them as they ate and watched the people around them. Natasha noticed how Clint’s expression changed whenever he saw certain people. It looked like he was evaluating them, deciding whether or not they were a threat. There was the smallest furrow in his brow, and once he looked away, it was gone.

“What are you looking for?” she asked out of curiosity.

He raised his eyes in question to her as he finished chewing. 

“I uh, I mean are you working right now?” she asked again, trying to clarify her previous question. “You look like you’re looking for something, or someone.”

“Really, that obvious, huh?” he smiled. “What are my tells?”

She shrugged and took another bite as she thought carefully.  _ ‘No bullshit’ _ It was what they promised each other. “You have this tiny little crease between your eyebrows, usually just when you look at men that are carrying things. Then, it’s like you decide they’re not, I dunno, a threat? Because the crease, it goes away and you look relaxed again.”

He stopped mid-sip and lowered his drink. His blue eyes met her jade ones and she almost started to squirm under his intense gaze. That dark shadow crawled back up her spine and she instinctively dropped her eyes, hoping she hadn’t angered him. 

He gently reached over and covered her hand with his until she again met his eyes. “You’ve got a talent for reading people, Tasha. Really, that’s impressive.” He looked around them to make sure there weren’t any nosy diners in their section. “Call it an occupational hazard, but yeah, I’m always watching. It’s second nature.”

She thought about what he said, how he was always looking, and wondered if one day she’d be able to feel confident enough to not be constantly on the defense.

“Tell me.” He took another drink. “What are you thinking?”

Her lips curled on one end. “Just wondering if I’ll ever be able to get to the point where I’m not always on the defense. You know, like you… evaluating threats so you can act first.” She eyed him closely and jump in with both feet, deciding to take a chance and ask. “Can you teach me?”

He smiled, a big smile that made the blue of his eyes dance and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand again and laced their fingers together. “I take it this means you’ll come to Romania with me?”

She blushed faintly and watched as their fingers intertwined perfectly. His hand was warm, much like her heart felt whenever he smiled at her. She felt safe with him. “I’d love to.”

  
  
  
  



	7. A Day at the Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint didn’t want Natasha to feel like she had to let him kiss her. He wanted her so badly, to taste every inch of her creamy skin under his lips, that much was true. More than that he wanted to know her, figure out what made her tick, so he pulled back.

**A Day at the Beach**

 

Clint and Natasha returned to their spot on the sand and stretched out next to each other for a while. Once she was protected from the sun’s rays, Clint didn’t mother hen her so much about getting burned, however she burned a little regardless. After all, she was a fair-skinned redhead.

Natasha sat at the end of her towel playing with the sand. She buried her feet and wiggled her toes until they were uncovered over and over. Clint leaned back and crossed his legs out in front of him. He watched the redhead as she absentmindedly repeated the burying and wiggling. He admired the soft curve of her spine as she leaned forward, and the creamy skin sprinkled with just a few freckles across her upper back. Her skin looked soft. He fought the urge to trace his fingertips down her spine to her waist, and press his lips to each little freckle. 

She looked back with a smile and caught him in deep thought, not realizing his thoughts were about her. She turned, laid down on her side and propped a hand under her head, looking up to him. 

“How long are we going to be in Romania?” she asked, curious about their itinerary. 

He mirrored her position and stared back with a smile. “A few days, I guess. You said you’ve spent time there growing up, is there anyone you’d like to visit?” 

She thought about his question. The last time she was in Romania she was barely 14 years old. She’d gone for her grandfather’s funeral, and after that she rarely spoke any Romanian. “Nah, my  _ Bunicut _ died when I was a kid, I don’t have anyone there outside of some older cousins I was never close with. I was the baby so I was  _ Bunicut’s _ little  _ dragoste _ and they were always kinda jealous. I just remember there were these beautiful buildings in Bucharest he used to take me to. Every summer when I was little, we’d walk around to the different museums and get ice cream.”

He watched her expression soften as she talked about her grandfather. The memories were clearly good ones. “Let’s spend time in Bucharest before we leave, then. What’s a trip to Romania in the summer without museums and ice cream?” 

They smiled at each other and she reached out to cup his jaw. He leaned forward and hesitantly brushed their lips together. They kissed each other softly and each waited for the other to make the next move. 

Clint didn’t want Natasha to feel like she  _ had to let him _ kiss her. He wanted her so badly, to taste every inch of her creamy skin under his lips, that much was true. More than that he wanted to know her, figure out what made her tick, so he pulled back. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Natasha breathed out. She smiled and bit her lip shyly. Her heart raced and her skin flushed from being so close to him. 

“Me too, Tasha,” he said and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

The wind blew softly off the sea and Natasha didn’t know if the shiver she got was from the breeze or from how desperately she wanted Clint to reach out and hold her. She felt emotionally exposed and it was unfamiliar. He saw her react to the chill and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. He bent his head down and buried his face in her hair. She laid there with him, enjoying the warmth from the closeness of their bodies and the scent of the sea on his skin. She snuggled in against him and in that moment, thought she could stay forever just as they were.

Time, unfortunately, was evil and not that kind. She laughed softly, damning her tiny bladder for the interruption. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked. She listened as his voice rumbled through his chest and they laid wrapped up in each other. 

She grinned, hid her face in her hands and whispered out, “I have to pee.” 

He stilled for a moment processing what she’d said and then joined in her laughter. 

 

Translation (Romanian- English)

_ Bunicut- Grandfather _

_ Dragoste- Love _


	8. Înapoi în lumea reală - Back to the real world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The intense look in his eyes fascinated her. His soft blue eyes were darkened in concentration. His jaw was set and there was a line between his brows giving his features a hardened look.  
> There was a part of Natasha that told her this wasn’t normal. People didn’t just clean weapons on random hotel tables. People didn’t just assassinate others for a living like it was another day at the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Natasha relives parts of her first rape, and this may be triggering for some.

It had been a long day of travel. Both Natasha and Clint felt the jet lag. The flight from Los Angeles to Boston, then on to Bucharest to connect to Constanta was exhausting. Once they’d arrived at the Black Sea resort community and checked into their room at Mamaia, they’d both fallen into bed and passed out for a good 6 hours.

Natasha felt as though she could have slept an additional week had she not awakened to Clint prepping for his assignment. She rolled over and saw him working quietly at the small table, cleaning his weapons with precision. The intense look in his eyes fascinated her. His soft blue eyes were darkened in concentration. His jaw was set and there was a line between his brows giving his features a hardened look.

There was a part of Natasha that told her this wasn’t normal. People didn’t just clean weapons on random hotel tables. People didn’t just assassinate others for a living like it was another day at the office.

There was a larger and much louder part of Natasha that also reasoned _she_ didn’t have a normal life, wouldn't know one if it bit her on the ass. The way this man looked at her and actually _saw_ her, not just a possession, a conquest, an object; that was so much more important than what “normal” people should or shouldn’t do. Natasha had crossed paths with enough bad people who had more than earned a spot on Clint’s list of hits. She reasoned that each of the targets he’d had must have hurt enough people to get to the point anyone would consider hiring him. Even so, there were so many questions she wanted to ask.

Who was the target and what had they done?

How many innocent people would be better off without that person in the world?

She wondered… what if someone would have taken out the man that lured her into being trafficked- beaten, drugged, raped, sold like a cheap commodity- for so many years? How different would her life had been and how much pain would she have been spared?

The familiar heaviness in her heart was finally lessening. Usually when she dared to go down the path of _what if_ , her heart broke, but not this time. This time the what if was met with _but then you’d never have met him._

For the first time in a long time, her life was beginning to make sense. For the first time in a long time, she was almost grateful for the events that led up to that point. Not because her experiences were good, or enjoyable, or any less terrible than they had always been; but because they brought her to where she was. And because yes, some people _did_ clean weapons on random hotel tables. Some people _did_ assassinate others for a living. And yes, it was a big deal, but in the real world it was a _necessary_ evil.

She laid quietly and watched as he assembled his rifle, adjusted the sights, and disassembled it with expert hands. The case was closed and locked before he stood with his back to her and slid the knives into their proper places in his tactical vest, and a smaller handgun in the back of his waistband.

Before he turned back he asked quietly, “How did you sleep?”

She was surprised when he spoke. Lost deep in thought, she didn’t realize he knew she was awake. She smiled as she crawled out of their shared bed and hugged him from behind- carefully, considering what he was wearing.

“I slept good, it was nice to have you next to me.” She pressed a soft kiss on the back of his neck.

He turned to face her and the look on his face softened. His hands softly ran through her crazy bedhead and he gently kissed her forehead. He looked at his phone and said, “It’s almost 3am here. I shouldn’t be more than two hours, _de acord? Dormi mai mult, va rog.”_

Her eyes widened at him and poked his sides playfully. _“Tu vorbesti limba Romana? Mincinos!”_

Clint laughed at Natasha’s teasing and caught her hands in his. He shrugged, pulled her close and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “It sounded like a good excuse to ask you to come with me.”

She watched him throw on his jacket and grab his case. She couldn’t wipe the silly grin off her face. _“Sta de veghe, da?”_ she called softly and shut the door behind him.

 

Two hours- it might of well have been two days. Natasha paced the room and looked out the window to the dark street. The sun wasn’t even beginning to rise over the sea yet. She showered and brushed her teeth and looked outside _again._ She sighed and climbed back in bed to rest more like Clint suggested, and reached out to the space where earlier that night, he’d laid next to her.

It was strange, being in bed with a man and not having to have sex with him. He hadn't touched her that night outside of holding her in his arms. When he promised she owed him nothing, he actually meant it. It was a little awkward at first, not because of anything he’d done, but because of everything she felt. In truth, Natasha _wanted_ intimacy with Clint. He made her feel like an actual person, like she mattered. And she wanted him to want her, kiss her, touch her. She knew him well enough to know that from him, that kind of affection would mean something.

Nothing outside of her own insecurity prevented her from taking the first step. She regretted that the first time they’d kissed it had meant nothing, even less than nothing. She was working and he was her mark. She’d used him to get out of a bad place and now she was afraid that if she _did_ kiss him, he’d only wonder what else she wanted from him.

Would he trust her?

Would he believe her?

Worse yet, would he even _want_ her after everything she’d done, after all those other men used her?

Would she disgust him like she disgusted herself?

The possibility of him rejecting her was more than she could handle. It was overwhelming and she didn't realize she was crying until silent tears fell onto the pillow. Natasha curled around herself, squeezing her eyes tightly to block out the world and she prayed. If there was a God, (and Natasha wasn’t sure of _that_ anymore, either) she prayed that one day, maybe she wouldn’t feel so fucking broken.

 

The jagged claws of restless sleep gripped Natasha’s subconscious. She was back in Los Angeles, fresh and young. She stepped off the plane and looked for the man she'd sent her photos to when answering the ad online. He said he was an agent and she'd be the perfect model, even had a promising future as an actress if she learned to pick up an American accent. He was so polite at first, offered to carry her things and hold onto her papers so they'd stay safe.

  
She'd been so young and naive. The man that was polite and helpful had disappeared soon after introducing her to his “friend” who had better connections. But it was all for the best and for her career, right? That's what he'd told her. She'd never seen her papers again, and after that she'd been strung out on pills and passed around more times than she could count.

  
The first she was sold, she was a virgin. She’d brought in real good money for them that time. She was drugged, but unfortunately not enough. She remembered every horrific bit of it. She still smelled the stench of the stranger’s cologne and the heat of his breath as he sloppily kissed against her mouth. She felt the sting as he backhanded her for crying. She begged him repeatedly to let her go, she told him _no, no, please don't hurt me!_  He kept calling her a bad little girl and twisted her arms behind her back. When her nose and lips were bloodied he shoved her face into the pillow so he didn't have to see or hear her. Then came the searing pain as he tore into her. She hears the disgusting grunting noises he made and felt his heavy, hairy body crushing her into the mattress.

Suddenly she was in a small room with no way out. The door was locked and there were no windows. She could hear the sounds of children laughing and playing and crashing waves in the distance. She pounded harder on the metal door, slamming her fists and screaming until her hands bled, begging, **“Пожалуйста! Кто-нибудь Помогите мне! Выпусти меня!”**

The walls began closing in on her and the room got darker. The floor disappeared and something wrapped around her leg and pulled her into the cold, dark water. She fought and fought but couldn't break free. Something else grabbed her arm, twisted her under the murkiness and though she tried, she couldn't call for help. She willed herself to swim up but in the complete darkness she didn't know which way to go.

Faintly, she heard a voice calling her to safety. She couldn't breathe and her lungs felt like they were burning. If she could just find the source of the voice calling her, then maybe, just maybe she could make it out in time. She fought harder and harder and the voice became louder. Tasha… Tasha...

  
“Tasha… Sweetheart... You're okay. Tasha... Come on honey, wake up,” Clint called gently as he brushed the hair from her face and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Her eyes flew open and she shot away from him in a panic. Her wild eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Clint sat on the edge of the bed, with his tactical vest dropped on the floor, and reached a single hand out to her. Kindness and reassurance were written across his face.

“It's okay, it's just me, it's Clint. You're safe. It was just a dream,” he spoke softly.

Realization flooded her and she crawled into his lap and wrapped herself in his arms. He held her close and kissed into her hair, rocking her back and forth as she trembled against him.

“That's it honey, you're okay,” he whispered into her hair. “It was just a dream. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you, I promise.”

She looked up into his soft blue eyes and saw the sincerity he spoke with. He brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear and held her face gently as he stroked his thumb across her cheek. He inched forward and pressed his lips against her forehead before pulling her in for another warm embrace. She fisted into his shirt and held him tight.

“Thank you, Clint,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. “Thank you...”

Clint didn't know what to say. It was hard to believe that she was thanking _him_ when he truly believed she was the one that brought him back to life. Because of Natasha, he felt human again. He wished there was a way he could explain it to her. Maybe someday he'd figure out how. For now, he'd settle for being there for her and doing everything in his power to keep her safe so she could heal. For now, he lived to see her smile. And if she could one day love him back, like he was beginning to love her… well then, what else could any man want?

 

Romanian translation  
_de acord?_ \- okay?  
_Dormi mai mult, va rog._ \- Get some rest, please.  
_Tu vorbesti limba Romana?_ \- You speak Romanian?  
_Mincinos!_ \- Liar!  
_Sta de veghe, da?_ \- Be careful, yeah?

Russian translation  
**Пожалуйста! Кто-нибудь Помогите мне! Выпусти меня!** \- Please! Someone help me! Let me out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird formatting on this one...IDK what happened.


	9. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Bucharest, Clint and Natasha both take a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut ahead

As they strolled the colorful streets of Bucharest, Natasha shared some of her favorite childhood memories with Clint. He’d assumed she was from Russia, however she grew up in Kiev, and summers were spent with her grandparents in Romania. He listened quietly as she regaled him of museums, street fairs, exploring the Danube Delta, and ballet lessons.

  
They walked hand in hand back to the village square and watched children leaning over the edge of the fountain and playing in the water like she’d done so many times throughout her childhood.

  
Natasha grinned at Clint and pulled him along to the edge of the fountain. She sat next to an elderly couple and removed her shoes before turning and dipping her feet in the cool water. There she sat quietly, swirling her bare feet just under the surface and staring into the sparkling water as it reflected the sun’s rays. The happy smile across Natasha’s lips as she sat at the fountain’s edge caused unexpected and powerful emotions to bloom in Clint’s chest.

  
The trip to Romania, while it had been a call back to the real world for Clint, it was also one of the best things he could have done for Natasha. Being in a familiar place associated with happy memories forced her to slowly and carefully regain herself. She was finally remembering who she was, accepting where she’d been and deciding who she wanted to be.

  
Natasha was someone who was once loved very much. She was her Bunicut’s dragoste, the apple of his eye and her Babushka’s namesake. After she was orphaned as a teen, she was lured by the worst kind of predator into a living hell, but she was strong enough to overcome what had been done to her and get her head back on straight. Call it luck or call it fate. She’d met a good man who’d become a best friend she could trust.

  
Clint stepped away to surprise Natasha with ice cream. He stared quietly at the water as he sat next to her.

  
“What is it, Clint?” she asked, curious at the change.

  
“Vanilla,” he replied simply and she shook her head at how clueless he could be.

  
“Not the ice cream!” she laughed and elbowed him playfully after shaking her feet and sliding them back into her sandals. She watched as he took a spoonful of the frozen cream and thoughtfully pulled the spoon from between his lips. She couldn’t help but stare at them as they formed a small smile. Oh God, those lips and how they felt that day on the beach... She wanted more.

  
“You’re an incredible woman, Tasha.”

  
Okay, that, she was not expecting. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted to say something, but she didn’t know what.

  
“Do you have any idea how strong you are?” He took another spoonful of ice cream and thought carefully before continuing. “You trusted me and I think I understand how rare that is for you.”

  
Her brows raised in surprise. “You think I’m strong?”

  
He chuckled and looked at her from the side while they walked. “That’s putting it mildly, yeah. Don’t you?”

  
“I dunno... I was forced to be someone else for so long. It’s easy to be myself when I’m with you,” she sighed. Because you see me.

Night fell and the evening stars peeked through the cloudy sky. The smell of summer rain was on the breeze. Clint draped his arm around Natasha’s shoulders and she breathed in the familiar scent of aftershave and a faint hint of gun oil. The combination was uniquely him and it made her want him more.

  
That evening when they turned into bed, the breeze grew humid as the summer storm rolled into the city. Natasha took her normal position resting her head on Clint’s shoulder with her arms tucked into her chest. The curtain danced in the soft breeze and thunder rolled in the distance.

  
Clint’s hand began softly tracing patterns up and down Natasha’s arm and the soothing rhythm made her sigh against his bare skin. He turned and pressed another of his trademark kisses to her forehead, this time letting his lips linger.

  
Natasha gazed into his eyes and lower to his lips. He seemed to know what she wanted because he inched closer until their lips met. It was confident and it was gentle. The softness of her skin against his amplified each sensation and the sexual tension building between them was impossible to ignore. He willed his body to calm down, but it wasn’t listening.

  
She traced circles into the skin of his chest, searching for the courage to show him how much she wanted him. What was it he’d said earlier about her being strong? She didn’t feel strong at the moment. Actually she felt like a nervous teenager. _Because he’s not just any man._ Her body knew what to do; it was the emotions that had her reeling. He was different.

  
Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the nervous look that settled across her features. Clint shifted to his side so he could see her better.

  
“What is it?” He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. When he went to move his hand back, and she held it to her chest, between her smaller hands. “Come on, honey. Tell me.”  
She traced his knuckles with the tips of her fingers and bit her lip. “What’s it like to make love to someone?”

  
If Clint’s heart could physically break in two, that is exactly what it would have done. How fucking cruel was it that this intelligent, kind, loving, beautiful woman had never been cared for like that? Had never known that kind of tenderness?

  
“It’s... uh...” he stammered and sighed, closing his eyes. _Oh, God… Let me show you._

  
She took the inability for his brain to properly form words as him not wanting to talk about it, so she tried to let him off the hook. “It’s okay,you don't have to-.”

  
“No- I just wasn’t expecting that,” he laughed nervously. _She’s so fucking perfect._ “It’s uh, it’s taking your time, and being... tender. It's making the person you’re with feel how important they are to you, like… you’re the only two people in the world and you’re connected on a whole other level.”

  
He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. The soft expression in his eyes and the way they caressed her face as he spoke made her feel warm and loved, and like she was worthy of everything he was describing. He moved closer, pressing her onto her back and lying above her as he spoke. She began to understand what he meant by wanting the other person to feel how important they are.

  
His breath ghosted across her lips as he continued. “It’s breathing the same air, and sharing the same body. It’s beautiful, and special...” his lips teased hers as he spoke, “and when you’re with the right person you know it, because you feel it in your soul.”

  
When he kissed her again, she understood. His lips parted and the sweet pressure increased as she kissed him back. His hand slid from her jaw to her neck as he mouthed the soft skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. His calloused hand traced down her side and caressed the skin on her hip as he licked into her mouth.

  
Much like the lightning that flashed outside, her whole body sparked with electricity when their tongues met. It was sweet, and hot, and velvety soft all at once. She was dizzy with want and need for him. The feeling of his strong body pressing down onto her made her hunger for more.

  
His hips rocked against her, full of maddening desire. He pulled back and she chased his shining and swollen lips, but he had to know she was sure she wanted more.

  
“Clint, I...” she breathed. There was an invisible tether from his blue eyes directly to her heart. The tender way he touched her filled her with adoration. They met in another kiss and she hoped he understood. _Please don’t stop!_ In that moment, it wasn't possible for her to put to words the power of how desperately she needed him.

  
Seeing her so open, so vulnerable like that made the need to protect her stronger than ever. He wanted to give her everything, every last bit of his love for her and fill the broken, empty holes in her heart. He rested on his forearms above her and ran his fingers through her wavy hair as his mouth explored down her neck, nipping and sucking gently at the soft skin, relishing in the sweet noises coming from her lips. He kissed back up to those red, swollen lips and rocked his hips as he whispered into her mouth.

  
“Tasha…” _Kiss_ “You sure baby?” _Kiss_ “I need you to tell me…” _Kiss_ “It's only if you want this…”

  
He met her eyes, heavy lidded and blown wide with want and need. God, he wanted her so bad his chest hurt. Clint needed Natasha to know how precious she was to him, he needed her to feel it, to understand how important and loved she was. Most important, he needed her to know, now and forever, that she, and only she was in control of her body.

  
“Please…” she begged, her breathing coming in soft pants as she continued to chase his lips. Her hands found purchase both in the muscle at the small of his back and around one shoulder. She pulled him close, rolling her hips up to meet his and clinging to him as though her life depended on the physical contact. “Make love to me. I need you,” she begged into his mouth before kissing him breathless.

  
“Oh God,” he groaned. “I wanna make you feel so good, show you how beautiful you are, how much you mean to me.” His hand moved to the hem of her satin cami and squeezed her soft waist. His lips worshipped lower, down her neck and along the graceful line of her collarbone. He kissed into the hollow in the center and mouthed down over the thin fabric covering her pert nipples. He palmed at the mounds of her breasts, caressing and massaging the soft flesh. Each movement gained new whimpers and moans from her lips.

He pushed the fabric up and she sat and raised it over her head. Her pale skin tasted as delicious as her lips and Clint pushed her back into the bed, drawing one stiff peak into his hot mouth and sucked greedily. He switched to her other breast and lavished on it the same attention.

  
Every sensation felt new and exciting. Natasha was finally discovering what her body wanted. The simple, powerful act of trusting the man above her changed the entire experience. Being present and connected like that not only awakened her desire physically but also emotionally. She fisted her hands into Clints light brown hair and pulled him back up to her lips. She moaned, wanting, against his tongue and he gave her more, kissing her deeper.

  
“Clint,” she begged. “I- I want…” she trailed off, losing herself in his mouth again. He pulled back and smlied down at her with nothing but love and adoration.

  
“Tell me what you want,” he encouraged. “Anything baby, but you gotta tell me.”

  
She bit her lip and searched his eyes. “I want to feel you, everywhere.”

  
He groaned, a wrecked, broken sound and latched onto her neck again. He sucked harder into her skin, enough to mark her and continued down the valley between her breasts. His hands teased along her waistband and pulled her panties down. She lifted her hips and he kissed down the skin of her inner thigh to her ankle, and back up the other leg. He settled between her legs and his breath ghosted over her bare mound. She ran her fingers through his hair, giving him permission.

  
“Mm… Oh- oh my God!” she gasped as he spread her legs wider and licked into her wet heat. His tongue traced up and down before pressing deeper and teasing her swollen bundle of nerves. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked softly at first, repeating the motion and then circling that sensitive nub with his tongue and Oh. My. God. Natasha couldn't keep her hips still so he pinned them down with one of his hands while the other found her entrance.

  
Clint entered her first with one finger, then two and massaged her core until he found the right rhythm that made her cry out, loud and desperate. He kept working her, playing her body like an instrument until she couldn't take it anymore.

  
“Oh, Clint! Mm right there, oh, please! Don't stop!” Her nails scratched into his scalp and she held him where she needed him. Something broke deep in her body and hot waves of pleasure crashed into her, washing over her again and again. Her body shook, her core clenched down onto his fingers and she came on his lips, crying out his name.

  
Her head was spinning, her body was singing and all she knew was the power and freedom of her own ecstasy. It was exhilarating and overwhelming and so unexpected she couldn't stop tears from welling up in her eyes.

  
Clint kissed back up her body, nipping at her hip and the lower outline of her ribs before catching her lips in a searing kiss. He felt the wetness on her cheeks while he held her face and kissed the tears away.

  
“Hey sweetheart, are you okay?” he asked softly. “I'm right here, baby. Talk to me.”

  
She nodded and smiled sweetly. “I'm okay, I promise. They're good tears, I've just… never felt anything like that before.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. She needed more and began squirming beneath him searching for friction. “Please, I want you,” she begged.

  
“Mm, I'm gonna give you everything you want,” he kissed back. He pushed up and grabbed a condom from his bag and stripped of his shorts before crawling back onto the bed. Natasha met him halfway and pushed him down onto the mattress. She took the opportunity to palm his thickness. His swollen, heavy cock laid back against the flat of his lower abdomen and she used the leaking precome to rub slick circles around the sensitive head, earning deep moans from his lips as they met hungrily.

  
She straddled his thighs and took the foil packet from him before ripping it open with her teeth. She stroked him slowly, fully, a couple of times and rolled it down his length. She took in the sight of him, strong, defined and perfect. Their eyes met and he grinned playfully. Without warning, he bucked his hips and launched her into his arms before rolling her underneath him.

  
She laughed, loud and full as she pulled him down and rolled back over the top of him. She gripped each of his wrists, held them above his head, lightly traced her teeth along his jaw and nipped at his earlobe.

  
“Think you can take me, Barton?” she asked playfully.

  
“Fuck, Tasha… you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he smiled. He leaned up so she was in his lap and caught her in a kiss, wet and hungry, and just dirty enough to make her whimper. “Your smile, your laugh…” he groaned, worshiping her lips. “Mm and you taste so sweet. Can't get enough of you.”

  
He held her close, and in one swift motion fell back and rolled them over so she was below him. His hand ran down her side and over her hip before hooking under her thigh. He rubbed his cockhead up and down her opening, covering himself in her wetness and drawing a sweet whimper from her with the stimulation. Their eyes locked and she nodded again, giving him the final consent he needed to enter her. He pushed into her tight heat and caught her moan in his mouth, greedily swallowing those first noises from her.

  
The stretch of him being inside of her was maddening. She felt full and whole and perfect. He covered her body, possessive and protective all at once. When he began rolling his hips against hers, she felt the sweet drag of him drawing out and pushing back in deeper each time. He seemed to press forward forever, thick and heavy.

  
He rolled his neck back and his mouth parted sinfully. Their eyes met again and the deep blue of his eyes was thinly ringed around his pupils, blown wide. He looked at her so lovingly, in absolute awe of the beautiful creature below him.

  
She felt safe and loved with him inside her. His head fell into the crook of her neck and he nipped at the sensitive flesh.

  
“You feel so good,” she whined softly into his ear. “Oh my God….”

  
He kissed her and buried his length deep inside her body, rocking in time with his tongue licking into her mouth. They breathed heavy, hotter and faster the deeper they dove into each other. Natasha felt Clint in her mouth, her mind, her core and her soul.

  
He wrapped his arms behind her back and sat back on his knees, bringing her up with him and they never lost their connection. The new angle slid her down his shaft as he buried himself into her even deeper. He sucked and bit at the flesh of her breasts and splayed a strong hand across her back, keeping them pressed closely together. His other hand softly fisted up into her hair, guiding her and holding her so their tongues could dance between them as they breathed in quick, hot pants of air.

  
The heat between them caused a sheen of sweat to cover their bodies. The constant, deep rocking motion drug Natasha’s sensitive clit against Clint’s pelvic bone and the friction became so intense that her cries grew louder, more desperate.

  
“Fuck, Tasha… you sound so pretty, honey,” he growled. “Oh God! That feel good?” he asked, thrusting up into her deeper. “Come for me, baby. I want you to come.” He licked into her mouth and she drug his bottom lip with her teeth as her body shuddered around his, falling apart violently.

  
The two of them moved together as one, both knowing exactly what the other needed. They held onto each other as Clint fell backward onto the bed and Natasha steadied herself by gripping onto his pecs. His hands wrapped around her hips and he rocked her against his body slow and deep. He lightly traced the skin of her thighs and back up to the curve of her waist. She guided his hands up to her breasts and he obediently went where she wanted him, kneading the soft flesh and teasing her nipples with his thumbs. Her head rolled back, exposing the long column of her throat as a sigh escaped her lips. Seeing her confidently moving above him took his breath away. She rocked steadily, crying out louder each time and chasing another release.

  
“Tasha,” he moaned and his breath hitched. In that moment he knew, completely and wholly, he was in love with her. His heart was so full, it ached.

  
Her moans were sharp, short and passionate. She felt so complete and treasured, overflowing with love for him. “Yeah, Clint…. Oh my God, so good!”

  
He writhed beneath her before thrusting faster and deeper into her tight heat as she fell apart above him. “Oh, baby. You're so perfect. I-I…” His breath caught in his throat. His jaw went slack and his lips were pliant. He was so close and was completely consumed in her fire. He saw nothing, tasted nothing, wanted nothing outside of Natasha. Only her. Always her.

  
“Tell me, Solnishko,” Natasha breathed after finding her voice again. She captured his lips and begged desperately. “Please.”

  
He caught her jaw in his hands and kissed her, moaning reverently, “Natasha, sweetheart… I love you.” Their eyes locked onto each other and Clint’s whole body tensed as he came. “I love you, so fucking much, baby.” His voice broke, his body pulsing within her and spilling into the condom.

  
The passion of his confession shot deep into her soul and she fell apart for the third time in his arms that night. She whimpered into his mouth, promising love and forever.

 


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

Clint and Natasha built something strong, something unique that couldn't be easily explained or ever replicated. After months of shared experiences, he finally agreed to train her to be his partner, professionally, in addition to in life and love. 

She was a natural, tapping into the things she'd learned over the course of six years of torture and using the hell she'd been through for their collective good. It was taking those experiences, and accepting them in all their horror for making her into the person she'd become that made it at all possible to heal.

**Author's Note:**

> Human trafficking is a serious crime.  
> More than 31,600 total cases of human trafficking have been reported to the Hotline in the last eight years. The Hotline annually receives multiple reports of human trafficking cases in each of the 50 states and D.C. The number of human trafficking cases that Polaris learns about in the U.S. increases every year.  
> •23% of texting conversations on the Polaris BeFree Textline (Text "BeFree" to 233733) were from survivors of human trafficking compared to 11% of phone calls on the Hotline.  
> •The Hotline 1 (888) 373-7888 receives an average of 100 calls per day.


End file.
